How the stream flows on
by likingthistoomuch
Summary: Molly Hooper, was an amazing woman. Few knew of it.
1. Chapter 1

He was sitting outside the café near Hyde Park, looking over the green space. So he spotted her approaching him from quite a distance. She was dressed as always, the bright colours on her jumper could be seen from this far. As she hurried near, she could see that her hair was shorter.

She ran the last few steps and gave him a tight hug. She was smiling and it lit her face up. He realized he had rarely seen her like this.

"Hello John. It's so great to see you! You haven't aged a day since I last saw you." She gushed.

He laughed at her comment, "You were never a good liar Molly. Though _you_ look wonderful. Its great to see you too. I see Edinburgh's treating you well, you rarely visit London."

"Oh I do love that city. And the work is wonderful. But it cant match London for the sheer madness." She continued smiling. John could see that she was genuinely pleased to meet him and to be in familiar surroundings.

"So how long are you going to be here? Did you meet Greg? I was pleasantly surprised when I got your text. This was a sudden trip was it?"

"Oh, I am staying with Greg. The trip was last minute and I didn't have time to make any reservations anywhere. And he insisted on picking me up from the airport and then refused to let me stay in a hotel. Long time no see and all that jazz."

"Oh, good man! I would've done the same if I wasn't at 221B. So, the trip, is it work related? "

Molly's smile faltered a bit, she turned her head and a distant look came in her eyes. "You can say that, yeah, some personal work."

Turning back to him, smile back in place, she carried on. "But its done. Was no trouble in the end. I didn't inform you earlier as I had no idea how much time it would take. And I got barely three days leave from work, the research we are doing is at a critical stage and I cant afford to be away for long."

"Oh wow. Sounds like some good stuff you are doing up there!"

"Oh yes, its stem cells related. And its not only medicine. We are trying to factor in the genetics involved and have some biochemical students who have written some algorithms. Its fascinating work John. I am so excited for it." She was literally crooning.

John covered her hand with his and pressed down lightly.

"I am so happy for you Molly. I truly am."

There was a moment of silence as their order arrived and they both sipped at their coffee.

"And how are you John? How have the last three years treated you?" Her eyes were kind and full of empathy. Like she knew his pain. He guessed she actually did.

"One day at a time, Molly. I am getting better at dealing with it. But sometimes…sometimes it just creeps on you and then it's like there is this black wall all around you and you can't see or hear or feel anything. There still are days I have trouble getting out of bed, but I am getting better. Hey! I didn't mean to unload on you like that…where did that come from!"

She just smiled kindly. "I am _so_ sorry for your loss, John. I truly am."

Looking at her face, John knew that she really did get it. But there was sadness lurking behind her eyes. She tried to hide it, but he could see through the smiles.

Trying to change the subject, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"So met anyone interesting up north? After all Edinburgh is known for attracting artists and intellectual people."

Molly's eyes widened at his brusque question, but ended up chuckling a bit.

"I actually did. A few months after moving, I met a musician. And an artist, Nathan. Things were good, or as good as they could get."

"Oh, so you no more are together?"

"I came to London for Nathan related work. Or rather, work related to Nathan's will."

"His will. Oh dear Jesus. I am so sorry Molly. So sorry."

Molly just looked away into the distance.

"Guess how he died John. Go on, guess."

John was a bit taken aback at the casual tone she used. He knew she had always had a macabre sense of humour, but he was still surprised.

"Err…drowned?"

It slipped out. He inhaled sharply, expecting Molly to have a mortified look. Instead, she gave him a sad smile and shook her head.

"No. Overdose. Cocaine. I have a type John and its not sociopaths. Its recovering drug addicts."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Looking back at her, he saw that she was amused. Genuinely amused. And then so was he.

They both burst out laughing, loudly. And they laughed till tears were streaming down their faces. They were kindred souls, dealing with loss, trying to reach the shore, scared of drowning but at the same time reluctant to make that next stroke.

John hadn't laughed like this since he lost Mary and his child to the mad man, who had held both his wife and Molly hostage. Molly had barely survived, and then the survivor's guilt had eaten at her. She had left London a broken person, desperately trying to hold on to the last vestiges of sanity.

As their laughter subsided and they wiped their tears away, John asked her the question she knew was on his mind.

"So, did you meet Sherlock? I am sure he knows you are in town."

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

"I did send him a text last week. I went to Baker Street, but he wasn't in. and he hasn't responded to my calls or text since I arrived."

"Oh, that git!"

She smiled sadly and continued, "Its ok John. That's how he deals with things. I guess I remind him that he failed his best friend, that he saved me and not Mary. It wasn't his fault that Moriarty had switched our location at the last moment. But then I am sure this conversation isn't new to either him or you. As long as he is…well and clean, I am happy."

John could see her pain clearly now. He had known love, the best love there could be for him and had lost it. It had taken him time but he was coming to terms with it. He had forgiven Sherlock; he _had_ blamed him in his darkest hour, but he had eventually truly and completely forgiven him. He had had a solid love and he was getting better at dealing with the loss of it.

Looking at Molly, he could see she was still in love with a man who maybe could not feel the way she did. She had nothing tangible to get over and he saw how that was a problem.

"Molly, I don't know how to even say this. I just want you to be happy. Is there any way…anything I can do…"

"Oh John…its been a decade now. Amazing isn't it! I have known Sherlock for ten years. For ten years I have loved him with every part of my soul. I don't even remember how it is _not_ loving him, not being _in_ love with him. That's my present. And future too I believe. And somewhere I think I am at peace with it. Ten years of unrequited love?…Actually I now look at it as ten years of being lucky enough to know an amazing, intelligent, passionate and kind man. A man so brilliant, so brave and so lovely that maybe its for the best that he isn't shackled by any emotional attachment to one person. He is free to just be! And I love him too much to want to want to take it away. Because I know that when he suffers, he suffers more than any of us."

"…I don't know what to say. Molly…you need…somehow…" John was stunned at her words, at the pure empathy that Molly had, the kindness in her heart and the purity of her soul. John pitied Sherlock more than ever at that moment. To be able to have all that and still not lay claim, what a foolish man.

"Oh John if I knew how to get over him, I would've done that ten years ago. I tried and I tried and I tried and failed spectacularly each time. All he had to do was just walk into the room and I was a goner." She actually had a smile on her face when she said this.

"Maybe it's for the best that I didn't meet Sherlock now. I should be mourning for Nathan…well I am! He was such a lovely man. He left me some money, that idiot. I knew him for about 8 months and he left me such a legacy. I could pay off the mortgage on my London flat, imagine that! A place of my own, here, in central London! Who'd have guessed!" She grinned at him.

"I've learnt to take my blessings and live with it. At least I am surrounded by friends who care. Who maybe wont know how to hold me when my heart get broken or when I am sick. But hell, if I am ever threatened or cheated or even murdered …I have the best help a girl can ever get."

They both laughed at her words. John knew it was true. If someone even remotely hurt Molly, he knew there would be hell to pay, Sherlock alone would ensure it. Even before Greg or himself could be involved. Sherlock actually _did_ murder for his friends, there was a precedent after all.

As they said their goodbye at the end of their meal, Molly gave John another big hug.

"Take care John. Of yourself and of him. Coz that's all we can do for that lovely man. Love him and care for him. He will take care of the rest of it."

John had mixed emotions at this. He knew he had wonderful friends around him. But as he looked at the woman walking away, he knew that he had just met the most courageous and kindest of them all. And he felt better for it.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly was glad she had met him. John seemed to be dealing with things well, he was living, not just existing. Her heart felt light for that. Just as she was about to turn into the adjoining street and out of sight, she turned and looked back.

John was still standing at their table, looking at her. He smiled and waved.

She waved back and walked on.

* * *

><p>He watched her walk towards the cafe and meet John. Watched them speak. He could read lips as easily as a book, so it was as if he was sitting at the table with them.<p>

He knew she would visit London, would try and visit him. Not out of any effort to forge a new relationship, but to continue what she did earlier. Just to check if he was okay.

And he knew she would see that he wasn't. She could see through his pretenses if she wanted, but she was kind enough to choose not to. She instead chose to believe the face that he wore.

But the mask was slowly slipping and it always slipped the most when he was in her presence.

He was a mere man when stood in front of her, the tag of genius ripped off. So he stayed away. He hid away. Ignored the calls and did not respond to her texts. He had to maintain his façade. But he saw her, as she moved around his city; to the solicitor's, to the bank, to meet old friends and colleagues.

Just as he tailed her now. He would stop once she was at Greg's.

She was approaching the junction where one road branched off to Barts. Their old playing field. She stood at the junction and turned her face slightly behind. She paused for a moment, a small smile on her face and then continued walking in the opposite direction of Barts.

She knew he was there! He suddenly saw it as clear as daylight.

But then she could always see him, even when no one else could.

Although it was another three years before he could find the courage to show at her doorstep and stop running away.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sherlock!"

It was atleast six years since she had seen him. And now he stood in front of her door.

"Come...come in." She stuttered out an invitation and moved aside as he passed her into the house.

As they sat across each other at the kitchen table, silently drinking their tea, Molly knew Sherlock would speak when he was ready; or he could also just leave. There was no telling. There was a time she was used to either, but now dreaded him leaving without saying anything.

"How are you Sherlock?" She decided to break the silence.

He was quiet for so long that she almost gave up expecting a response.

"Struggling." The words were whispered, looking at the cup in his hands. It looked like he was waging a battle with himself and the words escaped his lips.

He looked shocked and a bit deflated by his response. He opened his mouth to say something, but pursed his lips and looked away.

Shaking his head, there was desperation, some sort of anger around him though he spoke softly, his voice actually cracking with emotion.

"I…I miss you; every day… every moment of every day for these past years I've missed you. And I thought I could cope, but I am struggling. And its getting worse. Much worse."

His eyes were pleading as he looked at her.

"I don't _know_ what to do."

"You do, you've always known!" He looked taken aback at her fierce tone.

"You've always known what to do, but chose _not_ to act. Don't pretend…don't bother telling me anything else."

Molly was breathing hard; she almost yelled out the last part but she needed to get it out. This frustration at not having any say in whatever this relationship was, at not being able to let go, at letting him have so much control.

She was sick of it.

"If this is going to be some temporary slip on your part, you know where the door is, Sherlock and I suggest you leave right now. I will not act like some temporary nurse you need. I cannot, I _will_ not deal with this again."

She reached out and placed her hand on his. As expected, he flinched, but did not withdraw.

She continued softly.

"I love you Sherlock. God knows why, I still do. But this has to stop. You cannot choose when to arrive and when to leave. This is my life and I don't want to deal with the mess when you leave. Not again."

She sounded tired at the end of it.

He was looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

Taking a deep breath, she asked him.

"So be honest for once and tell me. How can I help you?"

He pulled his hand from the table, stood up and walked to the door.

She didn't turn to look at him, resigned at his response to her ultimatum.

She waited to hear the door open; instead, she heard him going through his coat pockets. He probably found what he was looking for and sat at the table again.

It was a small box. He kept it on the table, eyes still not meeting hers. He pushed the box towards her when she made no move.

She opened it to find a charms bracelet. The charms were tiny but remarkably detailed; there was an anatomically correct heart, a key with tiny 221B marking, a violin, a dog and a question mark.

"That's me, right there. My heart, my home, my escape, my succor and what keeps me going, the mysteries. That's me, in your hand."

She got up and went around the table. He stood up as she approached. Without any hesitation, she put her arms around him and rested her head against his heart. He held her tight and close, his nose in her hair.

"This is home, you are home."


End file.
